


A Long Way Down the Line

by ghostofnoodlewrap



Series: Finding an ambit [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Asexual Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Canon Asexual Character, Dirty Talk, M/M, Phone Sex, Sex Toys, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:34:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29497368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostofnoodlewrap/pseuds/ghostofnoodlewrap
Summary: Martin takes an overnight trip for work. Jon gives him a call. They’ve never donethisover the phone before.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: Finding an ambit [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2166690
Comments: 12
Kudos: 104





	A Long Way Down the Line

**Author's Note:**

> No powers/entities AU, hence Martin working in a bookstore
> 
> Jon is an asexual trans man who is testing his limits when it comes to sexual situations. He has previously admitted to Martin that he fantasises about having sex with Martin when he wanks, but does not want to have sex in reality. He has admitted that Martin gets forceful with him in these fantasies.
> 
> Jon has had both top and bottom surgery (metoidioplasty). The terms used for his genitals are cock, balls, and cunt.
> 
> CW:  
> -Unsolicited (but not unwelcome) phone sex  
> -Martin asks about Jon's genitalia in a way that could be construed as rude (and Martin is aware of this), but he is unsure of how Jon wants him to refer to his genitals and does not want to use the wrong words.  
> -Under-negotiated kink, specifically Martin's dirty talk going down routes of manhandling without prior discussion, and Martin instructing Jon to use sex toys without them agreeing that would be part of the scene

Not every long day at work is a terrible one. Sure, most of them are - that’s the risk of working somewhere where the general public have such easy access to you. But the bookstore is one of the better jobs Martin’s had, and the owners really seem to care about both the employees and some of the more niche areas of the trade.

Which is how Martin ended up on an overnight trip to North Wales to learn the basics of how to look after old, rare books, and to pick up a couple of tomes for the shop which he suspects cost more than his annual salary. The bookstore owners have the sort of contact who will pay thousands for the right centuries old text.

The train out wasn’t too crowded once they made it out of London, although Martin moved onto the snacks that were meant for the journey back once they got to Birmingham. All the announcements were made in Welsh before they were read out in English, which was a little different, although the sound quality on the train is so poor he couldn’t tell for an embarrassingly long time.

The hotel he’s booked into tonight isn’t all that swanky, but is still a reasonably nice three star place. A quaint little place that left chocolates on the pillows. There’s a little microwave in the room, so he can pick up something from the supermarket instead of trying to find a restaurant (although he’s seen some tempting fish and chip shops). The only thing missing is Jon.

Of course, when your boss says ‘we’re sending you to a town in North Wales for a couple of days and are paying for your travel expenses and hotel’ you can’t reply with ‘great, can I bring my boyfriend?’

Then again, most of the charm Martin’s finding in Holyhead is coming from the nice beaches, and, having grown up on the coast, Jon swears he is thoroughly immune to any such charms.

But Jon must be missing him too. Martin’s had a steady stream of texts from him over the course of the day - which did help make the train journey more interesting, even if it was a mixture of cat videos, a discussion about whether ‘w’ should be classed as a vowel, and general observations and comments about their respective work days (Martin has definitely won out on how interesting his work is today if Jon’s found this much time to skive off and text him).

And now it’s evening and Jon is presumably home.

Martin isn’t home - or rather safely sequestered in his hotel room - when his phone begins to buzz with an incoming call. He pulls it out of his pocket and Jon’s grinning face (or rather, Jon’s grinning face and the cat he’d found and petted for long enough for Martin to snap a candid) is there.

“Have you finished with work?” Jon asks when Martin picks up the phone.

There’s something missing from Jon’s voice as it’s filtered through the phone. Something about the depth of it or the timbre that can only be appreciated in person. It’s still a good voice. Just not quite as hair raising as it is when Jon is in the room with Martin and close enough to touch.

“Finally. It’s been a long day.” Martin replies. “I missed you today.”

“I missed you too.” Martin can hear Jon’s smile. “I wish you were coming home to me tonight. Must be so hard.”

“It’s only one night. I’m not even over at yours _every_ night!” Martin says, which is technically true. “I’m sure I’ll survive.”

Not every night. Just most. Still, it’s been over half a week since he saw Jon in person. They were going to meet for lunch yesterday, but then Jon had a last minute urgent meeting arranged that ate up all of his free time. Apparently, this is one of the busiest times of year for deadlines.

“I’m not sure I will.” Jon says. “I need you so badly right now.”

“...Is everything alright?” Martin says. “It’s late, but I don’t think the last train has left yet.” It would be gone eleven by the time he made it in, but Martin could be back before Jon went to bed.

“I’m fine!” Jon insists. “I swear! I just thought your voice could, you know, help things along?”

“Sure.” Martin says. “What do you need me to say.”

“Tell me what to do.” Jon says. His voice drops low. “Tell me how to touch myself.”

Martin drops the packet of haribo he’s just picked up in shock. “Jon!” He says. “What are, are you trying to…” He splutters. “What are you doing?”

“I am _trying_ to initiate phone sex with you.” Jon says. “Now that you’re alone-”

“I’m not alone!” Martin says, loud enough that someone else in the aisle glances at him. He is very much not alone.

“I asked you right at the start if you were alone!” Jon responds.

“No.” Martin says. “You asked if I was finished with work, which I am. I am now in the _supermarket_ buying emergency snacks, because I ate all of mine on the train up.”

“Oh.” Jon says. “I-”

“I can be back at the hotel in ten minutes, I think.” Martin tosses a dozen packages into his basket, not caring all that much what’s in them aside from the fact they’re in the snack section and thus must contain at least one of sugar or salt. “Can you keep your hands to yourself for that long, you awful man?”

There’s no heat in his voice, but it’s bloody rotten of Jon to do this right at a point where Martin can’t really say or do anything about it. Goddamn, Jon better not do anything that results in Martin being arrested for public indecency! There could be children here.

“I don’t know.” Jon teases. He gives Martin a commentary as he walks towards the checkout. “My cock’s already hard. I’m desperate to be touched. I guess I’ll have to do it myself if you won’t oblige.”

“That was a rhetorical question, Jon.” Martin says, letting his voice drop a little deeper than it usually is. He hears a breathy gasp from Jon. “You are going to wait until I get back to the hotel, and then we are going to talk about this.”

Martin goes to a self-checkout, because it would just be plain rude to go through the manned one while he’s on his phone. But he has no intention of hanging up on Jon. Not when Jon’s mouth has turned quite this filthy. It’s a fucking miracle that Martin doesn’t spring an erection right there among the plastic bags and self-scanners. (Jury’s out on whether he’ll last all the way back to the hotel).

“I’ve been sort of horny all day.” Jon says. “I kept thinking about your hands and what they could do to me. How you could hold me down. Where you might touch me.”

“You’re awful.” Martin tells him, his tone making it clear that he doesn’t mean it except in the way he really, really does. “Truly awful.”

“Thank you.” Jon says, earnestly. “I was thinking I could just take care of myself like I usually do after I see you - did you know I end up jerking off immediately after pretty much all of our dates? - but then I figured that I could call you and get you to tell me how to do it. Do you like that idea?”

“I do.” Martin says. 

There’s a light drizzle when Martin steps outside the supermarket. He doesn’t have an umbrella, and while he’s wearing a raincoat, it’s too small to be done up anymore. Those are not the reason why he walks at a pace so brisk it’s just barely not a run.

“Is this okay with you?” Martin asks. “I know you’re the one who called me and brought it up, but we’ve never done anything like this before.”

That much is true. Martin’s jerked off while Jon was there, but Jon didn’t look or touch during. And he knows he doesn’t have permission to touch Jon’s private parts. Although, Martin supposes, he’s not going to be the one touching.

“I think so?” Jon replies. “I still don’t want to do anything actually with you with you, and I’ll stop you if this becomes too much. And I want it to stay audio-only. No switching to a video call.”

“Okay.” Martin says as he walks into the hotel lobby and heads towards the lifts.

“But it’s sort of an extension of my fantasies? It’s still me touching myself, but you get to tell me what to do. I want to try this with you. I want to try something that involves you just a little. And if I like it we can try it again, or see how far I can push re involving you until we hit my boundaries.”

“If you need an out, just let me know.” Martin says. “Don’t even worry about it.”

“Is that the lift I can hear?” Jon asks.

“I’m almost back.” Martin confirms. “Not much longer now. You’re doing such a good job waiting for me.”

The lift arrives at the correct floor, and Martin steps out. It’s not far from there to his room, which is as sterile-looking as when he checked in. Jon’s stopped talking, but Martin can still hear the subtle sounds of him moving around, probably on the bed.

“Okay.” Martin says, once the door is closed and he’s toed his shoes off. There’s a flumph as he tosses himself backwards onto the bed. “I’m alone.”

“About time.” Jon grumbles. “Do you know how desperate I am for it?”

“I can imagine.” Martin says. “One thing though, before we get going. I don’t know what you have, you know, _down there_. Or what you want me to talk about you having down there. That is, I don’t know the right words to use. I know you’ve had bottom surgery. And I know it’s rude to ask about a trans person’s genitals unless you’re getting up close and personal with-”

“You’re my boyfriend.” Jon says with a laugh.

“Yeah, your boyfriend whom you told you didn’t want to have sex. So I never asked, ‘cause I didn’t think I needed to know!”

“It’s okay.” Jon says. “You’re right. Using the wrong words would be… upsetting to me.”

“Then, at the risk of sounding rude: what do you have? Or if you’d rather, what would you like me to talk about you touching?”

“I have a cock, Martin. It’s not as big as a cis man’s would be, but it’s very sensitive. It’s too small to put my fist around, but I do like to take it between a couple of fingers and tug myself off.”

“Are you doing that now?” Martin asks.

“Not yet.” Jon replies. “Should I be?”

“Tell me about what else you have first.” Martin’s pretty sure there’s more. Jon’s mentioned that he has a cunt before, and that he enjoys penetration. 

“I have balls too.” Jon says.

“You do?” That’s news to Martin. That was probably a bottom surgery thing, because as far as he knows, HRT doesn’t make you suddenly grow balls. He thinks.

“I do. They cover up my cunt a little bit, but not so much that it stops me from putting things inside myself.”

“Is there anything inside your cunt now?” Martin asks, echoing the terms Jon has been using.

“Not right now.” Jon replies. “I fingered myself a bit earlier, but then you told me to keep my hands to myself.”

“And you were such a good boy for doing what you’re told.” It’s surprisingly easy to let this filth fall from his lips. “You deserve a reward, so I think you should finger yourself. After all, if I were there, I’d hardly let you stay empty.”

“What would you do?” Jon asks.

He sounds breathless. Martin likes to imagine he can hear the slick motions of Jon’s fingers too, but he’s not sure. He wonders how many fingers Jon likes to fuck himself with. Martin files that away as a question to ask later.

“I’d force your legs open so that I could get between them.” Martin says. “Maybe I’d play with your cock for a bit, or maybe I’d just slam straight into you. You sound so eager to take it that I don’t think I’d even need to stretch you out first.”

Martin’s trousers are feeling a little tight all of a sudden. He undoes the button and zipper to relieve that a little. He traces the line of his erection lightly. Jon hasn’t said he’s comfortable with making this a mutual experience. Martin hardly thinks he’d mind, but it would be better to ask first.

A little later on, perhaps. Martin knows that if he takes himself in hand right now, then he’ll only last a couple of seconds. If he made Jon wait for it, then Martin can have a little patience of his own.

“Jesus fuck.” Jon swears. Martin’s never heard him broken down quite like this.

“How many fingers are you on now?” Martin asks.

It is surprisingly easy to slip into the role Jon wants him to play. To be a little cruel. A little bit forceful. To say the most obscene things that come into his head and listen to Jon moan at his suggestions. It should make Martin blush to say things like this, to treat Jon that way. But all it does is let arousal pool in his belly.

“Three.” Jon replies. “Only just, though.”

“I think you should swap onto a toy. You sound ready enough to me.” Martin suggests. “The big black one with the suction cup, if you think you can take it. Or maybe the rabbit would be better. We wouldn’t want to neglect your poor cock, now would we?”

Jon is silent for a moment. Even the slick sounds, which Martin presumes come from the movement of Jon’s fingers inside himself, stop.

“How do you know so much about what sex toys I have?” Jon says, with some suspicion clear in his voice.

“I _have_ cleaned under the bed, dear.” Martin replies. “You don’t hide them _that_ well.”

It’s not that Martin feels obliged to clean up Jon’s flat when he’s over (and he has halfways hopes that one day he might be able to clean up _their_ flat). But he likes to be useful and Jon’s never blooming ready when Martin arrives because apparently they have different views on punctuality. And they’ve gone past that stage in their relationship where they have to pretend that they’re totally tidy people living in spotless apartments.

Which is to say, that sometimes Martin goes over, and there’s laundry to be put away, or washing up to do. And Jon never says anything, but he smiles at it. And the one time Jon phoned him before a date saying ‘I’m really not feeling that well today, maybe another time?’ Martin still went over. Jon slept through most of the visit on the sofa and wasn’t bothered by Martin doing a spot of cleaning.

That was when he found the toys under the bed. 

It’s not a huge collection, but bigger than anything Martin’s ever had himself. Half a dozen or so dildos in various shapes and sizes, a bullet vibe, and something in a velvet bag he thought might be some kind of Hitachi.

“What should I use?” Jon asks.

“The black one.” Martin says. “Like I told you. You might want a vibrator for your cock too.”

“I’m not sure I can take that one without more prep.” Jon says. “But I’ll try.”

“You can pick another if you like.” Martin says. “But you’ll never know if you don’t try. I think that slutty hole can stretch to take it, don’t you?”

“Give me a moment while I get them out.” Jon says.

He hears Jon put the phone down. Then there’s a number of noises as Jon gets off the bed and pulls his bag of toys out from under it. Grunting, mostly, and not the sexy kind.

Martin still finds himself cupping the bulge at his crotch. He’s stopped trying not to get hard - there are no little old ladies to scandalise here like there were in the supermarket. It’s probably okay to touch himself, but he doesn’t pull his dick out quite yet. There’s no way he’d last long enough to hear Jon properly lose himself.

“I’m back.” Jon says. “What would you do to me if you were here?”

“Well, I’d like to kiss you and tell you how gorgeous you are, but I think you’d like it more if I pinned your hands above your head and got a bit rough with you.” Martin says.

“Fucking hell.” Jon says. Martin hears the vibrator click on. “Keep talking.”

“What are you doing to yourself?” Martin asks. He’d love a picture, a video to watch. But Jon wouldn’t be comfortable with it. His voice is excellent, though, so it’s not like he can complain about phone sex.

“Teasing my cock with the vibrator.” Jon replies.

“Nothing in your cunt?” 

The sheets rustle like Jon is shaking his head. “I’m empty right now.”

“Well that just won’t do. You know I’d stuff you full if I were there.” Martin says. “You’d probably squeal at the intrusion, but I’d just hold you down and make you take it.”

“Christ, Martin…” Jon murmurs. It’s silent for a moment before Jon speaks again, although Martin can hear the slick sounds of him working something into his cunt. “God, I thought that wasn’t going to go in.”

“Did you pick out the black one like I told you?” Martin asks.

“I did.” Jon replies. “It’s big. I’ve never felt this full before.”

Martin tracks the progression of Jon’s voice getting breathier and breathier until he tails off into whimpers. He can ever hear the springs of Jon’s bed creak as his hips move.

Martin tries to picture what Jon must look like. He imagines him splayed out on the bed - no duvet, because who would want to cover this masterpiece up? Jon's feet planted flat on the mattress, his legs splayed wide. The black silicone of the dildo splitting him open and Jon’s hips grinding up into his vibrator.

“Oh fuck.” Jon says. “Martin I’m- _aaaaaah_! Martin, I’m so close.”

“Are you going to come for me?” Martin asks, already knowing the answer.

“May I?” Jon replies. “Please can I come?”

“You’ve been such a good boy.” Martin says. “You can come for me now.”

The noises Jon makes aren’t wholly human, as far as Martin can tell. They’re also unbelievably hot. Martin releases his cock from it’s cruel cotton prison before his underwear gets too badly stained. It’s wishful thinking to assume it will escape with none.

Afterwards, it’s just the sound of Jon’s heavy breathing. Then the vibrator clicks off.

“Did I tell you that you could stop?” Martin asks. The words are out of his mouth before he can even think about them much, before he can engage some kind of brain to mouth filter. Fuck.

But Jon just moans. That’s encouraging. Might be good to continue down this vein.

“Turn it back on.” Martin instructs. “You’ll pleasure yourself until I’m satisfied.”

“Fucking hell.” Jon says, but he does as he’s asked. Martin hears the change in the vibrations as Jon tucks the toy back where it belongs.

“Does it feel good, being speared open on my cock?” Martin asks. “Can you take it all?”

“It’s a lot.” Jon says. “But I like how much it stretches me out. I can - _oh_! Fuck!” There are more slick noises as Jon touches himself. Martin pictures Jon thrusting the dildo in and out, although he can’t really tell if that’s what’s happening.

“You sound so good.” Martin says. “The noises you make make it really hard for me not to touch myself.”

“You’re not touching yourself?” Jon queries. 

“Not right now.” Martin says.

“You should.” Jon says. “I want you to. I want this to make you feel good too.”

Martin laughs. His prick is nicely hard against his belly, most definitely ready for action. “I’d explode as soon as I touched my cock.” He says. “Tell you what, if you come again, I’ll consider lending myself a hand. Can you manage that?”

“Easily.” Jon says.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Jon says nothing more. Martin listens to the noises he makes grow in volume, the hitches in his breath increase in frequency. He’s itching to touch himself, to bring himself to the same pleasure that Jon is careening to without brakes.

Then Jon crashes over the edge with a gasp. He makes a sound that is almost a sigh, just with more edge to it, as he comes out of the other side. Martin has the strongest urge to hear that noise again and again.

This time, Jon doesn't turn the vibrator off. It seems that past mistakes are in fact learning opportunities.

“Are you…?” Jon asks after a moment. “You promised.”

Martin recalls saying that he ‘might,’ not that he promised. But he’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth either. He strokes the hand that was already holding his cock up to the crest, and then back down again. There’s already enough pre-spend to ease his way.

“I’m touching myself now.” Martin says. “How could I not? You don’t know how badly I want to fuck you.”

Not badly enough to do anything Jon isn’t comfortable with. Not badly enough that he’d demand it of Jon and say their relationship is hollow without it. But still, the desire is certainly there. If Jon gives him an inch, well, he won’t push for a mile. But Martin will certainly take advantage of that inch so long as Jon assured him everything was above board.

“You do?” Jon says.

“You’re irresistible.” Martin tells him. “God, I’m here panting like a dog over you.”

“Tell me what you’d do to me.” Jon says. Martin can hear the desire in his voice.

“I’d pin you down to the bed. Get you - uh - get you _squealing_ under me. Maybe I took you too quick. Maybe you like it that much. And I - _fuck_. Jon, I’m going to-” Martin’s voice breaks as he approaches a place without words.

Jon doesn’t say ‘go on, come for me.’ Jon’s voice is also in that place of desperation, following Martin on the path to an inevitable orgasm. Martin comes, spilling over his hand and stomach, and he thinks Jon might be coming too.

“Did you come?” Jon asks.

“Yes, I did.” Martin says. “Did you?”

“I did. Should I keep…”

“Do you want another?” Martin asks.

“I could take another couple.” Jon says. “One upside of my, you know, general configuration.”

“Keep going then.” Martin says. “I’m going to make you come until you cry.”


End file.
